


Spirits In The Dark

by dasakuryo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasakuryo/pseuds/dasakuryo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 3x18 Riddled. Lydia answers to a knock on her door to find no other than Stiles, whom all they pack has been looking frantically. Relieved but worried, Lydia sets her mind to comfort her friend. Little does she know that, aside from Stiles, she let someone <i>else</i> in into her house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Behind appearances

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for a prompt at Tumblr.

“Stiles, is that you?”

The preoccupation that had been eating Lydia disappeared when her gaze met Stiles figure by the room doorframe, but her heart ache at the lost, almost vacant expression on his face. He didn’t answer her question; he simply stood there and stared absently at her. But although he was gazing towards her, Lydia guessed that he wasn’t really looking at her. Lips parted, body trembling weakly.

The girl approached slowly, so as not to startle him, believing with every fibre of her being that whatever had got inside him was now gone or perhaps asleep within Stiles —this odd, puzzled and silent behaviour of his had nothing to do with the creature fond of trickery, did it?

When she was only a few steps away, Stiles seemed to snap back to reality, for his gaze lifted until his eyes met hers. Confusion waving the depths of his once soothing irises, as a storm unsettles the calm surface of the sea. Nevertheless, he managed to nod.

“Lydia, I—” he trailed off, eyes frantic as the trembling intensified.

Lydia took it as a signal to jump in: she practically leaped forward and wrapped Stiles into a smothering hug, her relief taking over her actions with no such thing as a second thought. Seeing him was a balm to her heart, a feeling that overwhelmed her with warmth, contrasting with the icy cold desperation she had felt days earlier when she’d failed to found.

Had she somehow been able to look at his face, Lydia wouldn’t have missed the way Stiles lips curled into a mischievous smile, how the puzzlement in his eyes became pure darkness as evilness found its way to the surface.

The nogitsune hold back a chuckle.

 _It was so easy, predictable, and yet so much fun_.

His smile widened when Lydia tightened her embrace. As he had suspected, the girl had no clue that she wasn’t precisely hugging her  _dear friend Stiles_. Not in the slightest. Because, yes, she might had her arms around a teenage boy lean figure, but the mind — _Stiles’ weak, pathetic, broken mind_ — was trapped, kept on a short leash under his wicked control. And the best part was that he could actually reach out into it, read him as an open book.

When the girl moved away from him and her eyes searched for his face, the façade was up again. She then guided him to the bed, fingers squeezing his arm gently, and made him sit down. And the nogitsune fought down the urge to laugh once again, when realizing how many times  _silly Stiles_  had daydreamt about a situation as that one. He could feel his lame attempt to overthrow him, his brave but yet pitiful, pointless struggle to gain control of his own body again, his desperate screams for him to stop, the weak blows that tried to shatter to pieces the walls that enclosed him within his own head.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted her hand going for her mobile phone, probably with the idea of calling her friends or the boy’s dad in mind. But then again, it was so easy to pull the strings to make her do as he pleased, that if it weren’t for how fun the prospect of driving Stiles over the edge was he’d have find it dull, bordering on boring.

_“Lydia, is it really you?”_

She stopped suddenly at the faint, almost painful sound of Stiles’ voice. She let go of her handbag and turned around. Desperation had crawled its way back to his friend’s eyes. She froze, when she’d rather run to his side, when she saw him starting to shake almost violently and his hands tugged at his shirt by the chest, agitated.

“I’m not sure this is even real,” his voice was so weak that it came out as a whimper, his breathing ragged, “how do I know this isn’t something happening inside my head?” Stiles mumbled, hands now at both sides of his face, pulling at his hair.

“Stiles, listen to me, look at me,” Lydia found herself kneeling in front of him, shushing him and grappling his both hands by the wrists, “it’s real, I’m here— this is not a trick, is not an illusion, I’m really here,  _it’s really me._ ”

But her words had the opposite effect. Instead of calming him down, all she did was increasing his uneasiness and discomfort, for when he met her gaze; she saw no acknowledgment in his eyes. All that Lydia could see was raw fear shining brightly. Stiles’ managed to free one of his hands, then used it to tug even more fiercely at his chest, as if he was trying to pull something out of it, to pull something out of  _him_.

Later, she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact moment the idea flickered through her mind, or if it had been like a reflex, as if the memory of the situation that held some resemblance to it had triggered her actions. In Lydia’s mind, the scene had been vivid and clear, and watching Stiles so overwhelmed and lost, at the verge of sending him down the cliff’s face with a panic attack, made clear to her which path to follow.

Lydia felt Stiles suddenly go still. She felt the roughness of his cracked lips against her own, the warmth of his breath curled into her mouth when she pulled away softly and gently, until their faces where a few inches apart and she could stare into his puzzled wide-opened eyes, now with a completely different kind of emotion: amazement.

"Wh—what —” he slurred, but found no words to complete the thought.

“I made you hold your breath.” The girl simply answered to the unspoken question, as she tidied a lock of her hair behind her ear and that same hand came to rest over Stiles own. “Just like I did last time you had a panic attack.”

Stiles eyes lowered to quickly meet her gaze again.

“Thanks, I guess.” He let out a nervous, dry, almost soulless laugh.

Lydia smiled at him, too awkward to know what to do next, she intended to ask him if he was now okay, if it had worked; but instead mumbled something about whether he wanted a cup of tea or some food, because he was really pale, and cold, and looked  _kinda sick_. As Stiles made a movement, a halfway to a nod, she interpreted as a yes and jerked up to get to work.

Stiles followed her in silence all the way to the kitchen. At some point between it and her bedroom she contemplated the possibility that perhaps they should talk about what’d happened —not just the kiss, but his disappearance as well, if there was anything he remembered from those few days he’d been missing. But it was dangerous; Lydia guessed he had been down a rough path lately. Maybe he coming to her meant that the thing was defeated, somehow. What if it had taken him so long to come back because of it? What if he had been trying to protect everyone all along, trying to avoid another situation like the one at the hospital? All she could do was come up with theories, Lydia was afraid to ask him, perhaps because she didn’t want to trigger anything inside him —or perhaps because she knew what was like when people pestered one to know something, no matter if they meant to be subtle about it.

She put the kettle on and went through the kitchen cabinets, cursing her mother under her breath for putting the tea-bag box in a different place virtually every week. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stiles leaning on the nearest countertop, arms folded over his chest. He was staring at her, head slightly tilted to one side, and at the sight the wild idea that something was off flickered through her mind and clenched her stomach for a brief second.

 She shrugged it off and grabbed the kettle from the stove. When Lydia was about to pour water into the cups, Stiles’ voice startled her once again. But this time it had a hint of sulk tainting it:

 "I really don’t get why we keep doing that, you know, me coming to you, over and over, relentlessly and hoping that someday you’ll realize or open up or whatever —I don’t even know why I keep trying, honestly. I’m far away from your league and all I’ve had is that and this stupid kiss from you just because you wanted to stop my panic attack and— I’m ranting, aren’t I? But I suppose it makes sense since I am losing my mind after all, and apparently I can no longer keep all this to myself when you’ve just kissed me to pretend is nothing only seconds after.“

Lydia stared at him, froze on the spot, jaw slightly slack at such a straightforward statement. His words hold no breaking news to her, but rather things she had decided to ignore, either for the sake of their friendship, because Stiles was nothing more than a friend in her eyes or perhaps because _technically_  she was dating Aiden.

And now Stiles had confronted her, calling her on her nonsense. And perhaps he was right, perhaps she  _did_  have shut him off, did cast him aside without really intending to, perhaps out of the nerve-wracking feeling that she wasn’t ready to let him in, thinking that history would repeat itself and she would end up as heartbroken as when Jackson dumped her first, to then put miles and an ocean between them.

And suddenly she was in front of him, looking at him in the eye. And he was staring at her, something resembling anger wandering about his expression, hardening the usual softness in it whenever his gaze rested upon her.

"Perhaps you’re mistaken and I don’t take it as nothing.” She retorted, her tone hard and bold.

Lydia would never have imagined what happened next. Suddenly, Stiles hands went from being against his chest to be nabbing her waist, seizing it firmly. The sound she made out of surprise was silenced when his lips collided with hers, entreating entrance harshly.

Lydia’d praised herself for being able to handle boys the way she wanted, both figuratively and literally, but Stiles had taken her by surprise. She would have never expected him to become so blunt about it, although apparently he had had a crush on her for years. She had always pictured him as the trading-on-egg-shells kind of guy when it came to— virtually almost everything linked with dating someone, or being with someone, or anything of the sort.

All of a sudden, following a line of thought without being distracted by Stiles hands roaming over her body, or Stiles lips on her neck became impossible for her.

She had this feeling in her gut that something was off. There was a tiny voice inside her head, that of common sense, which kept on telling her to stop, that she  _should pay attention_  to that feeling of suspicion, of doubt. There was another one; more hormone-driven of course, that wouldn’t stop ranting about how on earth he was so good at it when he was a virgin, but  _fuck, why the fuck was she thinking about that now?_

Lydia found herself unable to hold back a pleased sigh when he made it to the sensitive spot below her earlobe. And perhaps she didn’t want to keep lying to herself anymore, so she gave in. It was her who searched for Stiles mouth and deepened that initial kiss. Lydia felt Stiles lips curl into a smile several times as they kissed, each time more heated than the previous one.

Their bodies pressed together bringing to a minimum the places where they weren’t touching and still the feeling that it wasn’t enough. Lydia was trying her best not to heat things up quickly, tried not to think of how much she wanted to make that stupid, annoying shirt disappear; or how much she would like to strip them both in the spot. Because this was Stiles, wasn’t it?

She should have known better, thought about how all had unfolded since he knocked at her door. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her when Stiles propped her up on his arms with the sole purpose of getting her on top of the counter.  _Well, that was fast_ , she thought.

“Lydia, Lydia, please—” his voice was ragged, weak, almost a whimper.

Lydia answered to the plea the only way she could think of. She kissed him hard one more time before tugging her fingers at the edges of his shirt, pulling it up and off, to then do the same with hers. She failed to take notice that her mobile phone had been going off several times —with every incoming call first from Alisson, then from Scott, from Isaac, Derek, Aiden and even Ethan.

The girl did also miss the sudden playful, evil smirk that brought a smug and evil back to Stiles’ face.

* * *

 

Jealous much,  _Stiles_? What does it feel, huh? Knowing that you can’t touch her even if your body is technically doing so? How does the numbness suit you, _Stiles_? Would you want to take control now? I bet you do, you’ve been dreaming with this for years, haven’t you? Wouldn’t that be great, to let you know how it feels like,  _Stiles_? After all, you did let me in and I’m enjoying this because of you, it’d be fair enough to let you have some of it, wouldn’t it? Oh, yes, it would. But you see,  _Stiles_ , that’s not fun. I know that the moment I let you in control, you’ll stop and tell her everything, you may ask her to kill you, given your fragile current state of mind, actually. And you know what? I haven’t had this much fun in years, centuries to be accurate. So, no,  _Stiles_ , I’m afraid that I’ll keep her to myself. After all, I think she wouldn’t like the change, you’re so unexperienced and she seems to be having such a  _nice_  time right now. Wouldn’t it be selfish of you?

What are you going to do,  _Stiles_? Wouldn’t you love to push me away from her? But the question is: can you really do that,  _Stiles_? Can you figure it out? Didn’t  _she_  say that to you? I dare you to figure it out,  _Stiles_ , how will you make me go away, how will you keep me from hurting all the people you love most? How will you drive me away from her now?

Stiles put his hands over his ears, in a pointless attempt to block the nogitsune’s mocking voice. But it was useless, how was he supposed to block something that was inside his own head? He had beaten it, momentarily, he had tried to warn Lydia, to make her stop, to make her go away, to make her call for help, but as suddenly as he had taken over his body again he’d lost it.

Failure.

Again.

And the worst part of it was he couldn’t prevent the nogitsune from using his mind against him.

A part of him was mad at Lydia for not noticing it, for not realising that wasn’t him, that he’d never jump at her bones like that.

Why was he even ranting about that  _now_?

His head throbbed. He tried as hard as he could to reach out to her once again, but it was as useless an attempt as trying to carry water in one’s hands, the control eluded him, away from his grasp. He was so close to seize it but at the same time so helplessly unable to hold it within his grasp— just like water slowly dripping between one’s fingers. It seemed that all he could do was watch, in horror, fearing that in the blink of an eye the fox-demon would snap her neck just  _for the fun of it,_  and praying for it not to happen.

* * *

 

Lydia’s eyelids fluttered faintly. She was lost to the sensation that overwhelmed every single sense she could think of. Every spot Stiles would touch —with his hands, with his lips, with his tongue, with his bare skin— seemed to be lit aflame, sensations lingering there even after the touch was long gone.

She kissed the nearest mole she could spot doing up his skin. She heard him groan, the sound reverberating against her skin. Lydia grabbed him by the chin and lifted his head up, wanting to stare into his eyes for the very first time since _it_  had started. There was no brown on Stiles’ irises, pupils so dilated and dark that it was as if she was staring right into an endless abyss.

A playful smirked played about Stile’s lips and he jerked up to nibble at her lower lip. Lydia half giggled, half moaned softly when the wandering hand reached for the inside of her tight, rubbing down and up her skin. One of her hands meandered down his chest in return, at what his smirk widened.

Lydia bit her lower lip fiercely, anxious in anticipation as she stared at him in the eye, eyebrows arched, setting up a challenge, daring him to go forward. His hand squeezed hard her tight before moving upwards, and Stiles’ eyes met hers, naughtiness she’d once thought alien to him darkening his eyes even more if possible. He twiddled the hem of her skirt, teasingly, and chuckled at Lydia’s grunt of frustration.

“Stiles, I’m waiting here.” This wasn’t precisely the time for him to get shy.

And at the same time Stiles’ hand made his way beneath the cloth, up and up, Lydia bubble of pleasure popped when she heard the distinct noise of someone banging at the entrance door. She pushed Stiles away and quickly grabbed her shirt from the top of the microwave and put in on. She then glared at Stiles, pointing at his shirt and his un-zipped pants with a tilt of her head and a rolling of her eyes.

Lydia grabbed her mobile phone on his way out of the kitchen, and snatched the keys that rested atop her Chemistry book. The lights flickered momentarily on her way to the entrance door. Lydia hold back a fed-up sigh, the last thing she needed was a blackout of power. On the bright side if the lights did go out, she still had her mobile phone fully charged with a torch app. And speaking of her mobile phone—

She frowned at the virtually endless list of missed calls; she had also several texts from her friends. She went through a few of them at random, puzzled about how eager all of them were to contact her.

**From: Alli Argent**

Lydia, why aren’t you answering your phone? We’re all ill worried. Call me back asap!!!

**From: Scott McCall**

LYDIA, CALL US IF YOU SEE STILES!!

**From: Aiden**

Lydia, are you okay? Don’t turn off your phone!! Please, call me back as soon as you get this! Be careful xx

**From: Isaac Lahey**

Hey, Lydia, we’re trying to get through here. It wouldn’t hurt you to answer your phone. Allison says that if you don’t answer within five minutes we’re going to your house to knock down your door. We’re all worried. Answer your phone!! P.S.: She’s serious about it.

**From: Scott McCall**

LYDIA!!!!! ANSWER YOUR PHONE!!!

**From: Derek Hale**

Lydia, call any of us back!! Whatever you do don’t trust Stiles!! He’s not himself!!! DON’T TRUST HIM!

**From: Unknown number**

Lydia, is Kira here. Scott and Alisson are up the wall right now, please return our calls. Xxoo -K

**From: Alli Argent**

Lydiaaaa!! Call me back!!! Pick up your phone!! Let me know you’re okay!

**From: Isaac Lahey**

I hope you haven’t been ignoring us because you’ve been studying some Harvard-level nerdy crap, because Alisson here looks like she could murder someone right now, srsly.

**From: Scott McCall**

PICK UP YOUR PHONE!!  

**From: Danny Māhealani**

Hey there, Lyds! I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I saw Stiles arriving to your house when passing past on the bus earlier today. I let the others know he is safe and sound with you —Scott seemed pretty upset about him being missing today at practice. Tell Stiles I say hi :) Btw, if you’re mad I’m sorry :_ Can I make it up for you w/some Physics group studying on Friday? Coffee and bagels are on me! ;) xxoo –D.

She rolled her eyes and smiled at Danny’s message. She didn’t bother to open the last one Allison had sent her; sure it would be along the lines of the previous ones. If she had done so, she would have read the following:

**_From: Alli Argent_ **

_We’re on our way. Grab your keys and lock yourself or him somewhere. Don’t trust him! He’s no longer Stiles! Don’t trust a word he says! I’m serious, please; stay somewhere safe, we’re almost there! Hold on!_

“COMING!!” She screamed to the top of her lungs to be heard over the loud noise. She hoped she’d pierced all their werewolves’ ears with the sound, didn’t they know that there was something called doorbell?

She opened the door and saw Allison, crossbow in hand, Scott eyes glimmering red, flanked by Isaac, Aiden and Ethan already shifted into their werewolf forms. Derek was behind Scott, impassive as always. She spotted Kira nearby, looking kind of weak with no weapons but with fierce determination hardening her features.

When Allison tried to grab her by the arm to get her behind her and in the middle of the group, Lydia flinched away and looked at all of them with disbelief, lips parted and mouth agape in annoyance and frustration.

“What the hell are you doing? I’m fine, Stile’s is okay—”

“Where is he?” Scott asked, his voice a deep, cautious growl. His eyes flickered from Isaac to Derek as he nodded, with subtlety.

Lydia eye-sided Isaac as he growled, showing his sharp and long wolf-like teeth, and attempted to take a step forward but Scott pulled him back by the shoulders. Aiden seemed uneasy as well, although he merely gazed at her briefly with his bright blue omega eyes. Kira took a step forward and cleared her throat.

“I think what we’ll trying to say is that we’re glad that we could finally  _get through_ , and all we want is to make sure that both you and Stiles are okay.” She offered a smile to Lydia’s upset mood.

"Thanks, Kira, for being the only  _civil_  one,” at that, Allison lowered her bow, “and if you want to check on Stiles for yourselves, he’s in the kitchen. We were making ourselves some tea when you arrived,” she said, not even blinking at the half white lie.

She was about to lead the way to the room in question, when someone coughed loudly behind her: It was Isaac, hand outstretched towards her.

"You must have dropped it earlier or something.” He merely said, and let whatever he’d been holding drop from his hand to her palm, before resuming his usual pace to end up by Scott’s side. Lydia barely took notice of it; it was nothing but a small violet crystal sphere —perhaps a piece from one of those decoration ornaments her mother had bought the previous week.

She quickly shoved it into her blouse pocket without giving it much thought.

It was kind of surreal to be leading a group of werewolves, a huntress and a kitsune through the corridor, and even more difficult was for Lydia to wrap her mind around the whole possession thing. The lights flickered again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Allison gripping her crossbow so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her jaw set, tensed muscles. Isaac wasn’t so skilled at hiding his apprehension, low-pitched growls coming out from his mouth like grunts, squinted eyes. Scott’s silence seemed to be unbroken, but what suddenly make Lydia’s stomach clench was Derek’s expression, his lips, tight shut, were a hard line, his eyes were alert and watchful. She shrugged the bad feeling off with a shake of her head. After all, she knew Stiles after all, didn’t she?

And then Derek’s expression popped up into her mind again, and that voice from earlier came around once again to prey on her mind with those arguments and accusations of its. They both sent shivers down her spine for no apparent reason, as the feeling in her gut reappeared clenching her stomach out of the blue —it was ridiculous of her, she’d nothing to worry about, she trusted Stiles, they were friends, she would have known if something was wrong or in him, wouldn’t she?

She saw Allison gazing at her with worry, but she merely raised an eyebrow at her, at which her friend bit her lower lip and lowered her head. The crossbow was still firmly grasped in her right hand, and when they reached the doorframe of the kitchen Allison took a step forward and got in first, which wouldn’t have been anything to make a fuss about if Scott hadn’t imitated her, quickly grabbing Lydia by the arm as he walked past her, guarding the girl behind him.

She was about to bark at them when her arm was squeezed softly. She turned around to see Aiden reaching out to her, the boy nodded briefly, as if reassuring her that it was just out of precaution. But Lydia didn’t understand their reasoning. She had been with Stiles for the past hour and everything was perfectly fine!

“Stiles?” Scott called out, failing tremendously to hide the hint of hope that tainted his voice, “Stiles, are you in here?”

Derek’s brow furrowed, as his eyes turned blue abruptly and he shifted. His all too calmed features shifted as well, to a more apprehensive expression. At his side, Isaac growled and sniffed the air, as Ethan and Aiden shifted back to their werewolf’s forms as well. There was no sign of the softness Kira had spoken with earlier, her fist were clenched and her body tensed —as if ready to jump at any moment.

Lydia, puzzled, craned her neck to see what was happening at the front. She ended up pushing her way through, instead. Allison tried to stop her, but she managed to duck her just before she took hold of her arm.

She looked at Scott, whose eyes were fixed on a sight that dismayed him, judging by the distressed and pained expression on his face. She looked at that direction and suddenly it was as if someone had snatched the air from her lungs.

Stiles was surrounded by four spirals of thick black smoke, curling around him from head to toe; the shapes of the Oni disappearing as the smoke curled upwards to the ceiling and cleared. And within that haze of darkness they could all make out the figure of Stiles, shaking. When the smoke finally dissipated completely, a scream crawled its way up Lydia’s throat and she bit her lips as hard as he could to hold it back, tear-filled eyes not from the physical pain but for the claws that had dig into her heart at the sight before her eyes.

It was not because Stiles could barely keep on his feet, his knees giving in as the shaking intensified, nor the excruciating pain and desperation that made his lips tremble; neither were his eyes going wide, or his face crumpling with utter frightening.

_Stiles was barely standing on a pool of his own blood. Blood had soaked his T-shirt red. Blood that was dripping down lazily from his torn flesh, from the open wound of his abdomen._

And all Lydia could do was watching him touching the  _Ninjatou_  hilt with shaky fingers, gasping as silent tears of despair rolled down his cheeks. Numb, she sensed movement around her, and she quickly sprinted after Scott, and Allison, and Derek, and everyone.

By the time she got there, Scott had already knelt to the floor, where Stiles had eventually crumbled to, and was holding Stiles’ hand. But there was no black spidery-web-like trail of veins on his arm, no pain being eased from Stiles, from Stiles  _dying._

“It’s f-fine, it d-doesn’t hurt anymore, S-Scott,” Stiles stammered, “I-I h-hold him b-back, d-didn’t I?” He uttered huskily.

“Why didn’t you let us help you, Stiles? Why didn’t you let us save you?” Scott was no longer holding back his tears, sinking into the anguish of seeing his best friend agonizing in his arms.

“I had a ch-chance a-and I t-took it,” He said, effort taking his breath away, “I d-didn’t wa-want t-to hurt anyone else, S-Scott.” He added, gazing briefly at Isaac, who gulped and nodded forgivingly.

Kira had tears in her eyes and was desperately trying to call 911, mumbling under her breath. Allison had her hand wrapped around Lydia’s wrist as she cried in silence, as if the human contact kept her from falling apart right on the spot. Lydia held her lips tight shut, too afraid that if she dared to open them to comfort her friend, she’d scream her name instead and thus setting his death in stone. Somehow, when Stiles’ tired eyes searched for her, she managed to smile and it was as if light, life returned briefly to his face —but it was only for a moment, it faded a moment afterwards, when the pain and the imminence of death made him cry out. The dread brought a knot to her throat as well; she had to do something, anything to keep him alive—

Kira cursing under her breath gave her the hint she needed. If she could not utter even a word, then all she could do was let people utter the phrase that would likely save his life on the phone. She broke free from Allison’s grasp, and then literally ran to the living room, hoping that the phone would be on the small table by the door.

When she bended down to grab it, she was suddenly startled by a faint sound of bells. Puzzled, she looked around and spotted a soft light shining next to her foot. All her inner alarms were telling her to turn around and get the phone to Kira, but she was somehow mesmerized by the faint purple light. Her hand found its way to it, and her fingers wrapped around something, something that was emitting that very light.

Confusion made her brow furrow once again. Wasn’t it that sphere that Isaac had given him? She turned around, sphere in one hand and phone in the other. She hurried back to the where the group was. Scott hadn’t moved but all his body was shaking, as if fighting down sobs, Allison was by his side, shushing. Lydia’s heart sunk —was she late? It couldn’t be, she hadn’t screamed!

“Someone call 911!”

_Oh, no._

But there was no scream, before Lydia could sigh in relief and Kira get to her to grab the phone, Derek stiffened and let out one of the most frightening angry growls she’d ever heard from him. And at that very moment, Stiles pained face changed to a leering one.

And Stiles,  _the dying, bloody body of Stiles_  disappeared just like the Oni had in a cloud of smoke, as the same time something wrapped tightly around both of Lydia’s wrist and the sphere in her hand shone with blinding strength.

 _“Hello Lydia,”_  a velvet soft voice whispered in her ear.

The nogitsune easily took hold of the girl, under the stunned look of the group who were paralysed at the sudden turn of events. But well, didn’t they know that twists make everything more fun? He sneered, stared at them all with his head propped up on the girl shoulder, arms constricting like a prison around Lydia,. He cocked an eyebrow, mockingly.

“Aiden, no!” Derek screamed helplessly as the boy sprinted towards the pair, fully shifted, charging at the demon with anger and fury.

The nogitsune’s smile widened, and he snapped his fingers.

Suddenly there was burning heat licking at Aiden’s face. He stumbled backwards and his eyes met a wall of blue fire. This time the nogitsune didn’t fought down the chuckle reverberating inside his throat. A laugh tainted with pure and raw maliciousness came out of his mouth, and the fox-demon felt a sudden lure towards the way Lydia trembled beneath his grip.

“Well, well, well, I guess that you all think books bite, uh?” The nogitsune laughed at them, and took a special delight on seeing Scott clenching his fists, “one would have thought that you’d be learnt by now and start doing some research.”

Without letting Lydia go, he tilted his head, brushing it alluringly against the girl’s own and brought a finger to rest on a side of his chin. “Oh, but Stiles was the one who did that, didn’t he?” He hissed, an apologetically expression etched momentarily on his features. “My bad, really.”

“Let her go.” Allison demanded, crossbow pointed at his face through the dancing blueish flames, the anger furrowing her brow and tensing her muscles.

Ah, apparently the Argent girl was on a joking mood. As if he was going to serve it on a silver platter. He smirked at the request from the brunette girl.

The nogitsune brought his hand to Lydia’s neck instead, and caressed her skin just as he had done an hour ago, when the girl had thought Stiles was again in control of his body. Wasn’t it intoxicating, the fear that radiated from her and filled all of his senses? He didn’t miss on the faint, dreadful whimper that escaped from her lips either.

“Why would I?” He retorted, raising an eyebrow again. Aiden was piercing it with his infuriated look, aware of his every movement, oh; wouldn’t it be fun to toy with his emotions as well? “Why would I let her go after we had such a  _nice_  time together earlier? Tell them Lydia, didn’t you enjoy it?” he brought her even closer to him, his hand went all the way down to her chest, his lips brushing against her ear. She tensed, and struggled to get free, but then there was an iron grip. He chuckled against her warm skin, “why don’t you tell Aiden, how _desperate_  you were to get it  _all_  from  _me_? Tell him, come on, how  _insatiable_  of me you were, how much you  _wanted_   _me_ , Lydia.”

By now the girl was crying, tears dropping on his skin as they fall from her chin. Wasn’t that sound delightful, music to his ears? Aiden frown had intensified, his eyes fixed on his hand resting on Lydia’s chest, right between her clavicles.

The nogitsune’s eyes met Aiden’s in a daring, extremely mocking glare. He leered, before leaning forward and kissing Lydia’s neck right on her pulse spot. His ears caught the distressed and angry growl from him, so to push things a little bit further he shamelessly bit the very same spot.

In the blink of an eye, Aiden had jumped towards him, paying no heed to the fire. He could see hate glimmering in the boy’s eyes, claws a few inches and a second away from slaughtering his throat. The nogitsune make out the victory on the corners of Aiden’s mouth.

But suddenly, the young werewolf was thrown into the opposite wall; he fell with a loud thud, a mess of limp limbs. He didn’t come around even when Ethan desperately tried to get him to stand up, suddenly desperate to find his twin’s pulse.

The nogitsune brought his hand back to Lydia’s neck. What a waste of  _essence_ magic. But it was worth it. By the look on Derek and Scott faces, and the emotions that clogged the air, they were both at a lost. It’d been wise to have done some digging about kitsune magic before even trying to defeat him —he wanted to laugh, besides, at how clueless the young  _kitsune-hanyou_  was. She didn’t even know that she was the only one who could pose some kind of threat towards him, at least right there, at that moment, surrounded by a group of ignorant, weak humans and a handful shape shifters with no grasp of their own limitations whatsoever.

"Why are you doing this?” Scott asked him.

“I don’t need a reason, Scott,” he answered with a scorn, “I’m void, I’m darkness and chaos. And plus I am really fond of tricks, especially of the ones with a bit of collateral damage on the side, wouldn’t you agree Isaac?”

“Let her go.” Allison repeated.

“Or what?” He mocked her, “will you shoot me? Do it! I’d love to test if that arrow hits its target or” he stopped in the middle of the phrase to gaze at Lydia and lick his lips, “if it casually deviated to the side. I don’t think that an arrow would suit Lydia’s head, what do you think, Allison?”

But Allison didn’t back off, her crossbow was still aiming at the nogitsune’s head. She pulled the trigger and Stiles’ hand, the nogitsune’s hand, caught it in mid-air before it went through him. She smiled, and pulled the trigger again.

Suddenly, Lydia was free and out of reflex she ran as fast as she could towards Allison, squeezing her eyes shut to not stop at the wall of fire, begging that it wouldn’t hurt or burn when she stormed across it.

“LYDIA, LOOK OUT!”

Her eyes snapped open. She fell backwards, flat, when the fear paralysed her muscles. In front of her threatening and scary, and lethal— stood a  _beast_. The creature growled, and the dark seemed to get bleak around it, dark swirls of thick smoke poured out of its jaws like a fog, amethyst eyes glimmering with death. Its tail, its gigantic bushy tail, suddenly opened like a fan to the sides and all of a sudden she counted not one but seven dark, foggy, swishing threateningly from side to side as a low-pitched, blood-freezing growl escaped from those deadly jaws and made her whole body tremble.

_Nogitsune._

With the sound of the wind howling, the black fog made its way around her, swirling at his feet. And suddenly, that creature made of darkness, of shadows, materialized at her side, brush tail coiled around her body. The creature outpoured ferocity and aggression from its eyes, jaws, from its very essence. Its guarded stance was not that of protection of oneself, but that of reluctance to let go of its  _prey_.     

And the sole thought that flickered through Lydia’s mind was the utter terror: what had come of Stiles? What had happened to him? Did that mean that the spirit had consumed his body, his soul, to manifest as its demon-beast form before them?

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Desperation, darkness, made their way through her mind, through her heart, and suddenly it all ached so much that she might as well have a pit for a heart, a black whole of despair where once happiness and liveliness had sprout. It filled her with dread, with anguish, with guilt, with fear and with numbing, excruciating pain. And Lydia stood there, surrounded by a cloak of thick darkness, which drained her spirit. And she felt it, she could sense as if the world had become obscure, filled with shadows —her spirit slowly breaking and flowing away; carried by those swirls curling at her feet.

_No! Lydia, what are you doing? Fight back; don’t let him get to you. Please, Lydia, fight it, please._

You know she can’t hear you,  _Stiles_. She’s lost inside her own sorrow, and she’s suffering Stiles. Can you feel it, how her  _pain_  tastes? How  _we_  are feeding from her right now,  _Stiles_? Wasn’t it even better the horror when she realised what she’d done? Who she had been with earlier,  _Stiles_? Could you hear her heart breaking?

_STOP.THIS! Why are you doing this to her, to us? STOP!_

Oh, but I won’t,  _Stiles_. You see, after centuries one begins to yearn for the good ol’ days. It’s not like I can terrorize an entire village to feed on their despair, as I used to but— I guess this is pretty close enough, don’t you think? Stealing your shadow was only the beginning,  _Stiles_ , I’m not done with my tricks. I want to unleash  _chaos_! And you,  _Stiles_ , you’re going to help me—

He lifted her chin, her head hanged lax after he detached his hand from her touch. Apparently, the banshee had passed out. The corners of his mouth curled into a malicious, vile smirk. Surrounded and protected by the darkness of his own illusion, the fox-demon cradled Lydia’s face between his hands, pressed rubbing at her temples.

He could feel her emotions radiating through her, pulsing at her skin, as if struggling to come out called by the craving of his foul nature. He pressed harder, reaching out into her pain, surrounded by the darkness, his darkness, her darkness, mingling together to form an abyss.

The nogitsune felt it all of a sudden, scorching through his veins. The pleasure bottled up in his throat, and licked his lips when the moan escaped from his mouth. The pulse of the emotions flowing through him started to beat in his ears, like a heart increasing its rate —steadily first, like a pace, and then a deafening sound of thumps and thuds superimposing. The hammering made him gasp several times, dry chuckles in between. The delicacy overwhelming his senses as the darkness within him grew stronger, deadly and  _evil_.

As he grew stronger, Lydia grew weaker, and her body laxer even more than before. Her hand, a clenched fist only a minute before, had relaxed to the point where her fingers had spread out. There was a faint sound of bells clattering, and the violet, shining sphere rolled from her hand, and across the fox fire, to stop at Kira’s feet.

* * *

 

“WE HAVE TO GO FOR HER!” Allison screamed to the top of her lungs, trying to unbind from Scott’s grasp that was preventing her from throwing herself to the fire, from going to Lydia’s aid.

“WE CAN’T DO THAT ALLISON, WE’LL BURN TO DEATH!” Scott tried to reason with her, screaming, growling louder than she was, but the girl was deaf to his words, for he kept on struggling to break free.

Allison watched the scene before her with tears of impotence rolling down her face. The monstrous smoke and shadow figure of the nogitsune sank Lydia’s unconscious body deeper into its darkness, as he stared right at her; she guessed the corners of his snout curling into a mocking, vicious smile. She clenched her fist at the thought and punched Scott in the chest, but the werewolf didn’t let go of her.

Aiden was slowly regaining consciousness, to flutter his eyes open at a concerned Ethan. Derek and Isaac were watching the dancing blue flames that guarded the spirit and the girl with thoughtful expressions on their faces. Derek frown grow deeper at the sight, he approached the wall of fire and brought his hand closer to the flames, nearly touching them, but the all too real sensation of his skin burning made him draw it backwards.

“It’s impossible to go through that, isn’t it?” Isaac asked, staring with an apprehensive frown at the flames, at the nogitsune. He gulped slightly as Derek nodded, “there’s to be a way, I mean, he’s just a spirit, can we just— dunno, get him out of Stiles? Exorcising him or something?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “The possession is not the problem, the worst thing here is that we’re dealing with a kitsune, a dark one of all things, and I think our… my first mistake was underestimating him—” after all, hadn’t he been the sceptic one about the fox-demon going for Stiles? What if he had thought of that possibility earlier? Would everyone be safe or would the demon find another way to torment the town?

The conversations echoed around her, as if coming from a detached world. Kira stared at the little ball radiating light on her hand. She couldn’t quite describe it, but there was a strange sensation there were the sphere came into contact with her skin. It felt like both like a pulse and a flow at the same time, something tickling her palm and her fingers. The energy travelled in a spider-web path, to end at her fingertips.

She swallowed hard when she started to feel a burning sensation at the very tips of her fingers, as if her skin was being lit aflame on a sole, round spot on them. Her first instinct was to drop the ball, but when desperation crawled to her mind, there was a sudden hiss and sparks erupted like fireworks from the wall sockets in both sides of the room.

When everyone turned to her, her eyes widened.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“Did you do that?” Allison asked in disbelief, and then quickly looked back to Lydia.

“What’s that?” Scott asked her, pointing at the sphere with a puzzled expression.

“I— I don’t really know, I picked it up from the floor.” She said; her voice suddenly tiny. “Then I just— I don’t know how but— did  _I_  do that?” Kira asked, half amazed, half scared.

Derek merely stared at them pensive, her eyes flickering from the wall socket to Kira several times, as his brow furrowed again. Could it be— what had his uncle said? Kitsunes were fox spirits, fond of trickery, they had magic, could live for centuries and even several millennia if they didn’t get killed, there were plenty of types, the fox-fire which was part of their magic…

"Yes, you did. The only way to save Lydia is using magic.” Derek interjected.

“I think I kinda missed the part when this fucking town turned into Hogwarts.” Isaac mumbled under his breath, sarcasm filling his words. Derek didn’t bother to look daggers at him; he approached Kira instead and then looked through the fire, to Lydia’s body growing paler amidst the creature’s deadly embrace.

Kira’s hand enclosed the sphere within. Derek had taken hers into his, and the strength of his grip slowly guided her hand to wrap around the glimmering ball. As she did it, the powers trapped made the pulse, the flow, grow stronger. She could feel it at her fingertips and somewhere inside her chest, as something was scorching through her body like waves.

Waves of energy.

Waves of magic.

And Derek’s blue eyes stared into two vibrant yellow orbs.

* * *

 

The nogitsune felt the bolt coming towards him the minute Kira was summoning the power from  _his_  spirit ball. Suddenly he was forced to focus  _all_  his magic on deflecting the lighting coming fast at him, and thus the  _youkai_  shadow image of him disappeared just like the other illusions had —in swirls of black fog and smoke.

The fire, however, did far from disappearing. Describing swirls, and circles, and turns through the air, reached his hand the moment the lightning did. He reached out into what was left of his magic and the strength he had gained absorbing Lydia’s pain. The blue fire turned as black as a raven’s wing and engulfed the bright electricity. 

Lightning and void were opposites; he felt the antagonizing power struggling to break through the darkness of his magic, of the abyss around it. The energy of the thunders swept through him and had he not been controlling Stiles’ body, the poor lad would have died, hit by the struck. It didn’t kill him though, but it was as if a razor had dig into his flesh, deep, bleeding wound into the shadows, and the light leaked in.

His breathing turned laboured, ragged, as he absorbed the energy along with his own fire and darkness, a shining ball of yellowish-white, black and blue smoke stripes mingling together into the centre of his palm. It ached, and burnt.

A smile curled his lips. He easily dodged them when they charged at him, first Aiden, then Ethan, Isaac, Scott and Derek. Like stealing candy from—

His train of thought was cut short at the hissing sound of something cutting through the air. He looked down and saw and arrow piercing his shoulder. Allison’s little smile of victory upset him, and before ducking Derek’s blow, he took it out and ran it through Scott’s chest, right below his heart. He smiled at the boy’s pained face.

“Stiles says  _hi_.” He grunted viciously before he twisted the arrow and pushed it upwards. Scott claws were merely inches away from his neck, and with eyebrows raised the nogitsune dared him to slay his best friend’s throat. But of course, the werewolf only grunted and called out for Stiles —eyes shining with ridiculous, pathetic hope, telling him to fight, to hang in there, that he wasn’t going to abandon him, that he and his friends would  _save_  him.

Perhaps they’d got Lydia back, but he  _still had_  Stiles. And as long as his safety was a priority for them, he’d always have the advantage. And shielded by his youkai shadow self, the fox-demon sprinted out of the house—

And into the darkness.


	2. Beam Of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia is kidnapped and held captive by the Nogitsune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the Nogitsune reffered to Scott as bakemono, I thought it would make sense that he did the same with Lydia. An alternative name for banshee is fairy of death, _Shi no yōsei_ is an attempt of translating that into Japanese –I apologise for any mistake, since I used an online translator.

Lydia’s eyes were glued to Stiles pacing jauntily across the room, fingers gently tapping at the furniture within its way, to then come to a halt at the window sill. He smiled briefly and turned to gaze at the forest outside the window, his smirk turned naughty and a soft chuckle reverberated in his throat before he turned around.

Lydia’s breath caught up in his throat at the smile, which did nothing but grew even more mischievous as he approached her. Lydia shifted frantically in her seat, ropes burning her skin at her ankles and wrists when she desperately tried to loosen them. She stared at him defiantly, jaw clenched, when he demandingly lifted her chin to stare at her mockingly; and groove in her despair.

“Now what’s with the long face,  _Shi no yōsei_?” The fox asked, beguiling words pouring out of his mouth with the softness of velvet, the sarcasm unmasked in his raised eyebrow and his cocky expression.

Lydia didn’t answer, but gave him an icy glare instead and struggled to break free again. A false hurtful light flashed through the demon’s eyes, his smile dropped to twitch his lips —just soon to be followed by a deep, vicious and dry laugh. Lydia fought back the urge to bit her lip furiously in frustration at her current helplessness, and with all the sheer force of will she could muster, specially tried to keep her emotions at bay —she wouldn’t let him sip strength out of the cracks of her shattered pain, not ever again.

She stared right into Stiles brown eyes, but instead of finding the all too familiar fondness she saw nothing but darkness, an abyss of chaos staring back at her with the same amount of defiance. The Nogitsune’s made Stiles’ lips curl back into the same boastful smile and his fingers were suddenly brushing along her jawline, down and across the back of her neck.

"You hurt my feelings, darling, I’ve thought you will be delighted to spend some more quality time with me again.”

His words were as playful and alluring as they were threatening and spiteful, his movements calculated, both tantalizing and noxious at the same time. The soft, almost imperceptible touch triggered the memory of Stiles standing at her bedroom door, pale, sick and vacant eyes, the panic attack, the argument as she tried to find the tea, and the sudden turn of events as the kettle boiled forgotten on the stove. She tried not to think of how wonderful she had felt on those naïve stolen moments they’ve shared—

_No! Stop right there! That wasn’t Stiles! It was him and you blindly falling into his trap! He would have never done that or this!_

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut as the thought flickered through her mind, as she tried not to think into much detail about that night when the fox demon had completely fooled her, the night when all her friends had come to her aid utterly worried and she had thought they were just being over dramatic.

Her throat clogged up with anxiousness as she felt Stiles, no, the Nogitsune’s hand travel all the way to her shoulder. The fingers seemed to pierce into her skin. She became aware of the demon’s proximity when his breath collided with her face, giving her goosebumps and sending shivers down her spine. She tried not to think about how her heart was now racing, or how utterly repelled she was by him, how much she wished for those ropes to disappear so she could do something —something, anything, run the hell out of there, call for help…

Bring  _him_  back.

There wasn’t anything she wanted more eagerly in that moment than having his friend again by her side. She was fed up of watching that wicked demon use his skin to perpetrate every sick vengeance and twisted trick he could think of. And in that moment she stopped to reflect on whether Stiles was still there, if he was still alive and there was anyone to bring back to begin with. She wondered, utterly terrified at the thought, if Stiles had been both a witness and a silent accomplice by impairment.

Her whole body froze, her line of thought cut short, when out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the Nogitsune smiling even more viciously than before. Her wrists burnt once again as she tried to loosen the knot and looked away, disgusted by the elated expression as he rejoiced into her desperation. Lydia was sure he could sense it somehow,  _smell_ it even, by the way her lips curled upwards mockingly.

“Why are you so quiet? Is the banshee too afraid she may scream someone’s name when she opens her mouth?” The Nogitsune inquired, curious, quirking an eyebrow as if he was genuinely amused by her behaviour, “it might happen, you know? After all, your little friend here” he pointed at his head, the smugness oozing out of his expression, “is really dying, Lydia.”

She tried not to listen, convinced that this was just another trick, but the blood seemed to freeze in her veins at the demon’s statement. Lydia looked up and met the fox-spirit gaze, dread too evident in her dilated pupils, delight too obvious on the Nogitsune’s face. She then came to notice the all too clear signs behind his words, Stiles’ lips were chapped and he was even paler than the last time, the bags under his eyes had turned into a sick mix of red and purple.

“You’re lying.” She retorted, her voice failed to hide the fear, the implicit assumption that she knew he was right.

The Nogitsune smiled again, paced towards her to close the small gap between them and knelt before her.

“Am I? I think you know better than that, Lydia Martin.” On purpose, he cupped her cheek and she shivered slightly at the contact, “is this warmth of the living, or is it coldness of someone on his spiral into oblivion?”

“He’s not dying, I’d know it,” she fought back, fighting down the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks, “he’ll be just fine when we  _get you out of him._ ” She added, acidly, so determined that her whole body tensed at the end of that sentence, halfway between a threat to the Nogitsune and a promise to Stiles —because, he could hear her, couldn’t he?

The Nogitsune scoffed in return, eyes widening in false shock, an eyebrow lightly quirked up and arrogance on his every feature.

“And how can you all be so sure that you’ll kill him in the process? How do you teenagers with superhero complex know that  _I_  am not the only thing _keeping him alive_?” He offered with a condescending glare, his voice as casual as if he had spoken about how particularly cloudy that day had been, “after all, a _youkai_  doesn’t have to bother with human trivial needs for surviving. You can say is they’re not on my list of priorities, and little Stiles might have suffered my _lapse of judgment_.”

Lydia tried not to reflect on that, wanted to prevent her quick mind from doing the maths and the reading for her. Because, deep down, she knew that there was some truth to the Nogitsune’s claims. Even if he indeed was trying to trick her into believing that Stiles was slowly drifting away, possessed or not Stiles’ body would suffer the consequences of it all. How long until he was dehydrated? How long until his body started to give in? How long until a multiple organ failure? How long—?

"And even if he did  _die_ , I’d still be able to use his corpse as a vessel.” He added, rising now both eyebrows and brushing the silent tear that had fallen from her eyelashes.

His skin brushed against hers, in the same instant Lydia lock her eyes with Stiles’, when she realised the apparent concern on that sole supposed caring gesture was nothing but a lie—she snapped. She wanted to bring him the most unbearable of pains, right there, right then, she wanted to rip him out of Stiles and inflict as much pain as she could on that vile creature.

Lydia wanted to kick, punch, and beat the crap out of the Nogitsune standing before her. But she knew that would also hurt Stiles, and there was always the slim possibility that it would do no harm to the Nogitsune whatsoever. The impotence of the whole situation made her want to cry out in frustration. She wanted to shove that hand away from her face, it wasn’t Stiles, her friend hadn’t wiped away that tear out of concern —the Nogitsune had, and not precisely with fond intentions in mind, but rather with sheer satisfaction at her pain.

The icy coldness of his touch reminded her of the plausible imminence of death. It also reminded her of Stiles’ ragged plea a few days back —plea that she had completely misunderstood, a cry for help that she hadn’t been able to get right. Random moments started to flicker through her mind, little moments when Stiles had showed her, in  _his own_  particular, distinctive way, how much he had always cared about her —and she recalled, with a bitter feeling, how many times she had been icy cold to him, how many times she had snapped angry at him when all he’d been trying to do all along had been keeping her safe.

She wondered if Stiles had heard her then, when she told the Nogitsune that the kiss at the locker room had meant  _something_  for her. Had he felt—everything? Even if the demon had been in control, had Stiles knew that she had finally accepted her feelings for him rather than run from them? Had he felt that kiss in which she had tried to explain, to let him know? Or had he been lost, drifting away slowly on the very moment she outpoured her heart for him to feel it, trapped in the world of nightmares and illusions inside his head?

"He won’t, he will come back.” She said with fierce determination.

“Will he? And what will he come back to exactly?” The Nogitsune asked, hand momentarily resting under his chin, “I mean, he’ll come back to a friend who has repeatedly chosen his girlfriend over him; he will come back to a broken family, he will come back to the excruciating feeling of missing his mother every single day, and feeling guilty because he should have done something that night to keep her here;” he seemed to gloat in his words, in the way Lydia’s lip trembled at them, “he will come back to the girl of his dreams still being with another guy, to the same girl who has never even acknowledged his feelings or at least has been honest about how she feels about him; shall I go on?” He asked, mockingly, “why would he want to come back to all  _that_?”

Lydia gulped.

"Because we care about him, because we’re his friends, his family, and he knows we’ll never leave him behind.” The girl almost growled at the Nogitsune in anger.

“Are you sure about that? You see, I’ve been praying on his mind for the past weeks and God, he does have issues! You’ll be amazed of how much resentment, guilt and sadness such a small, young mind could hold.” He retorted, sourly.

Lydia clenched her fists and gave the Nogitsune a deadly glare, she wished she had other powers other than sensing someone was about to die —despite sensing that the Nogitsune itself was about to die would have been a delightful turn of events, wouldn’t it.

“Shut the fuck up!”

The demon pretended to be hurt by her statement once again. A playful smirk played about his lips and naughtiness furrowed his brow. He tapped his fingers on her arms, at what Lydia flinched and shifted helplessly in the chair, trying to get away from him and his teasing touch. She found herself being forced to stare at him in the eye, icy cold fingers turning her face roughly towards him. He leaned forward, so close she could stare right into those abysses for eyes he had, sense the coldness brought by his breath colliding with her skin.

The Nogitsune studied her face, felt her cheekbones and jawline with his icy cold fingers, as if he was admiring the delicacy of her features with such a soft touch. He laid a finger on Lydia’s lips and chuckled briefly; amused by something that eluded the girl. His dark eyes went from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes. His smile widened.

“Make me,  _Shi no yōsei_.”

Lydia barely registered that the ropes had fallen to the floor, barely noticed she had stand up and shoved the Nogitsune backwards. He only just stumbled, though, and stared at her, a half smile curling his lips in a silent mockery to challenge her. Lydia felt the fury boiling up inside her, rage guiding her actions. She wanted to erase that smile permanently etched to his face, that evil, vile smile that was nothing like Stiles.

But her luck ran short in an instant. She did try to punch him, but the Nogitsune was quicker than her fist, ducked it and caught both of her wrists. His smile had blurred, but the hint of maliciousness remained still. Her bones seemed to be on the verge of crushing under his iron grip. He chuckled when Lydia whinged and her knuckles turned white, eyes filled with hatred.

"You little shit!” Lydia cursed him out frustration, trying to kick him instead.

Playfullness light up the fox-demon, he gawked mockingly in surprise.

“And to think you kiss your mother with that mouth, shame on you. I’m not complaining, though. After all, didn’t we —which are the fancy words you use these days— make out? Remember that Lydia?” he inquired, viciously shoving her backwards to pin her against the wall, the hard concrete numbing her back after the rough impact, “you can’t imagine the relief when he took over in that brief moment and reached out to you —so pathetic, so naïve to think you’ll realise that he was asking for help. He kept screaming afterwards, you know, that how on Earth you haven’t realised that it wasn’t him, that he’d never do _that.”_  The cage grew narrower as he pressed his body against hers, “If only you knew how delicious his utter despair tasted then, Lydia, so raw. I’ve tainted you, Lydia, if he ever tries to touch you in that way again, you’ll remember  _me_  and he  _knows that_ so well _—_ So let me ask again, Lydia, why would he want to come back right now? Why would he even want to come back to  _you_  of all people?”

All of a sudden, her will to keep her tears at bay shattered to the ground. And they did fall, silently, as her body trembled, as she tried to pluck up some strength again from somewhere. She had come a long way in all those months, she couldn’t just give in, she couldn’t just leave Stiles at the mercy of that wicked monster any longer —but she was also too overwhelmed by everything, too insecure and lost on which course of action to follow. And she hated that feeling.

_The pain was numbing her ability to do anything._

_Pain._

But suddenly the overwhelming sensation started to fade, steadily at first and then quicker.

She opened her eyes; barely make out the figure of the boy’s face before her amidst the blur. She guessed his arms were stretched towards her long before she took notice of the hands grabbing at each side of her face, fingers pressing at her temples.

She squeezed her eyes shut and blinked a few times then, her vision cleared. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of swollen dark veins contrasting against the extremely pale skin of Stiles’ arm. Her ache was dull, slowly easing as the Nogitsune fed from it.

"Because I’ll not ignore him anymore,” she muttered, her voice shaking not from fear but from fierce determination and certainty, “because I’ve had the good guy by my side all along, and I was too blind to realise—”

Lydia stared at Stiles’ face, tried to spot hints of Stiles trapped underneath. She only saw sickening, almost bluefish pale skin, and abysses for eyes. The grip on her wrist loosened a bit, she couldn’t be certain if it was a side effect of the Nogitsune taking the pain away or if by any chance Stiles was struggling to reach to the surface again. She wanted to believe it was the latter, it  _had to be_.

“Because if he dies, I’ll go out of my freaking mind,” she echoed the words an ill worried Stiles had once told her, over tissues of toilet paper, “you don’t get to do that to me now Stiles, you’d better come back to me—  _just please come back_.”

She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to feel any more pain and by extension make the Nogitsune stronger. But she couldn’t help it; she couldn’t lose him, not after everything, not after what had happened between them, not after she had truly listened to her heart in what seemed ages since Jackson.

_She needed him._

She had to help him; she had to show him that whatever nightmares the Nogitsune had been tormenting him with, were simply not true. She needed to show him that there were things, wonderful things, to come back to. A silent tear rolled down her cheek, the Nogitsune let out a dry, brief chuckle at it, lifted her chin and looked at her in the eye.

"How typically human of you, banshee. So weak,” he trailed off, trembling, overwhelmed by the pain pulsing through his veins and grizzling them in turn, “that speech is supposed to make him come back? Do you humans think that love is the answer to everything? There’re things that not even love can save you from, death is one of them.”

_But even if love can’t save you, it gives you strength, something to hold on to. Love gives you hope. And hope is a beam of light piercing through the darkness._

Coldness and chapped, dry skin met her lips, but Lydia didn’t budge. She kissed him, the softest; most innocent of kisses she’d ever given to someone but still the most heartfelt of them all. There was nothing but stillness, her heart raced in her ears. She held her breath, praying, begging—

She felt her whole world crumble to the ground when, undoubtedly, the lips underneath hers started to slowly curl into a smile. She didn’t want to open her eyes; she didn’t want to look right back at the disgusting mocking smirk of the Nogitsune. She refused to give him that satisfaction. Frustration clogged up her throat and out of instinct she punched him in both shoulders as hard as she could. She wanted him away from—

“Ouch, I was expecting a warmer welcome,” a raspy voice quivered.

_A raspy but unmistakeably_ sarcastic _voice._

For the first time in what seemed a lifetime; when Lydia opened her eyes she didn’t stare back into two pools of darkness. She stared into the warm adoration that only Stiles was capable to summon to his eyes—

_Every single time his gaze locked with hers._


End file.
